Hawkeye 12 Themes
by Maaya
Summary: Complete. Drabbles, oneshots and ficlets based on the 12 Hawkeye centric themes.
1. Earrings

_Slight Roy/Riza. (Might as well be friendship) I dive into Hawkeye's private life by writing these themes. So I guess my attempts as writing her might seem a little OOC, but it is really just how I believe how she would be. Or, I meant to make her like she would be._

**#1: Earrings  
By Maaya**

The box was black, simple, didn't at all stand out amongst the neatly arranged piles of papers and books on the furbished table-top. Only the owner of the desk would ever have noticed it first thing in the morning, like she did. She raised her eyebrow at the object, that was breaking the order she had created for herself and she didn't, just for the moment, touch it.

Hawkeye didn't have to look up to know who had placed the box there, the Lieutenant Colonel's smug smirk radiated. She could feel it tickle her forehead.

Rain smattered against the windows - the weather didn't acknowledge her birthday, it seemed. Once upon a time, she might have cared, might have remembered before the Lieutenant Colonel what day it was today. Years of living alone had made her forget. Now when she had been reminded, Hawkeye thought she could as well buy herself a cake on the way home, or a piece of pastry. The latter was cheaper, and less gluttonous, perhaps the better option for her. After a moment of pondering, she had decided; pastry, it would be.

She ignored the Lieutenant Colonel's smirk (a sharp look his way had made him hurriedly direct it towards his paperwork, rather than her) and reached for the box as she sat down. It wasn't wrapped; she lifted the lid swiftly to look inside.

Her other eyebrow rose to accompany the first.

The pair of earrings was small, plain and blue, sometimes shimmering with grey hues. They would cling close to her ears. The chance of them getting caught in anything in a critical situation would be minimal or none.

Hawkeye felt the Lieutenant Colonel's gaze on her again; she raised her head and smiled back, tightly, if just to acknowledge the joke.

He didn't expect her to actually wear them at work, but he had still chosen the sort she could possibly use. It was almost touching, how well he knew her.

She ended up buying cake on the way home, after all. Cake is easier to share between two people.

**- e n d -**


	2. Beloved Dog

_Roy/Riza. Fluff. Humorous undertones at the end? Argh. Is this what jumped out from my mind at the words 'beloved dog'? Well. Mustang is a dog of the military, isn't he?_

**#2: Beloved Dog  
By Maaya**

Hawkeye doesn't believe in love. At least, not nearly as much as she believes in loyalty. She decided early on that she wasn't one suited for love the way most people describe it; she is too firm, too down-to-earth and too logical. The fact she'd never let another male flirt with her possibly plays a part in it, too. Sweet words, promises of forever, she doesn't buy it because to her, there is always the possibility that a person changes. Moves on. Hawkeye has to live with that she isn't the type to blindly have a crush and fall in love.

She doesn't mourn the fact.

The Colonel follows her home sometimes. They are comfortable with each other, no nervousness, no uncertainty. They know each other, and they know each others' bodies - it's a sweet routine that doesn't occur too often, or too seldom. Sometimes they talk, but more often than not, they say what they want to have said by sharing a look.

At work, they are professional, but close. Hawkeye will follow the Colonel to the end of the world, if needed. She knows that he will do anything for her sake, as well. But she has no illusions; he would do everything to help any of his subordinates. She is not special among them. Not like that.

Hawkeye isn't pained by the Colonel's tendency to flirt, and date. But she worries about him, hopes that he's not doing it to cover up pain. She does not want him to hide himself behind a reputation. It took a while until she realized, the Colonel doesn't hide behind his reputation, even if it is a cover. He uses it. To reach his goal. Everything is a goal.

She doesn't miss the excitement of a new crush, the awkwardness of bringing a stranger home. Hawkeye knows that the Colonel will always be there, every time he needs it, every time she needs it.

He won't ever complain about her habit to keep her gun on the counter where she can easily reach it, because he understands that she feels more secure that way. He accepts that she wants to protect him just as much as he wants to protect her; he knows the need to protect.

He often trips over Black Hayate's bowl, or the dog himself, on the way to the bedroom and he can loudly curse the fact. But he never suggests selling the dog, and he'll even walk him, if Hawkeye for some reasons feels she can't.

If there is one habit Hawkeye has never really cared to train/threaten out of Black Hayate, it would be his fondness of sleeping in the bed. The Colonel has never minded, either, but he is remains firm on one point. The dog is not to be there when they are doing things that do not include sleeping, in the bed.

Hawkeye never protests to that. She'd be weird if she did.

It's amusing. The Colonel has never complained when Back Hayate wakes him up with a wet tongue in his face. He is probably used to it by now.

She can't help but smile to herself when she sees the Colonel and the dog sleeping in the bed. Together they create a humorous image of loyalty, side by side. Cute, her mind whispered. If anything was, it would be this.

And to think that the Colonel needs to _ask_ what she finds funny, when he wakes up.

**- e n d -**


	3. Back

_Thanks to those that have read and especially to the reviewers. All comments are loved._

**#3: Back  
by Maaya**  
  
The ache flares up at the most tiresome moments. When Hawkeye is reaching for her gun, when she in jerking movements aims, when she is ducking, looking for cover. It comes with a snap and ruthlessly seats itself along her backbone. It is endurable, she wouldn't breathe today if it wasn't, but it does not to encourage her.  
  
Hawkeye is still young. She doesn't want to feel the first course towards constant pain already.  
  
She hasn't told anyone because of the fear of being placed in a dusty military archive somewhere, far away from fieldwork and far away from her tight-knit group of trustworthy companions. They know, she is certain, the Colonel and his group are aware. Thankfully, they won't mention it, not even when she has to massage sore spots with both hands.  
  
Because it is a cunning pain, not merely shocking and instant. Sometimes it comes sneaking, settles in muscles made stiff and tired from deskwork.  
  
It doesn't come as a surprise when Hawkeye can finally stand, finished with the papers and ready to go home, but she has looks up to confirm no one heard her muscles creak. It is not surprising at all because she has spent the whole day with these papers, only took a break for lunch at eleven o'clock.  
  
No one has looked up so Hawkeye assumes she didn't groan out aloud and that the muscles didn't creak as loudly as it felt like they had.  
  
She rolls her shoulder discreetly as she throws a glance out the window. It is dark and has probably been for a while. Depressing, somewhat embarrassing, that Hawkeye is the one to leave first. Depressing, because it is late before the first one leaves. Embarrassing, because she is usually among the last ones. It is often only her and the Colonel left, at last. She looks around at the faces.  
  
Havoc has an unlit cigarette in his mouth, is chewing on it, wiggling it up and down restlessly as his moves from the left to the right, only pausing when he has to change paper. Fury cleans his glasses with a yawn – will probably go home soon. Breda has opened his jacket, and Farman plays a melody with his fingers on the tabletop.  
  
She moves on to he Colonel is reasting an elbow on his desk and strokes his cheek thoughtfully. He looks up, and for a moment, their eyes meet. He nods.  
  
"Have a good weekend, First Lieutenant."  
  
Hawkeye removes her supporting hand from her back (she can't remember when she had placed it there) and comes to attention.  
  
"Yes. You too, sir."  
  
She ignores Havoc's joking goodbye-wriggle with his fingers and fetches her coat (it has gotten colder recently, she has found she needs it) and puts it on without visible problems. She doesn't wince when she moves, doesn't do it awkwardly.  
  
If possible, Hawkeye will handle the ache.  
  
**- e n d -**


	4. A Welcomed Rain

_Sorry for the delay...but I have a few more parts so I'll update soon, if anyone is interested. Thank you for the reviews and comments, I love them. _

**#4: A Welcomed Rain  
by Maaya**

"Really," Havoc said, ignoring the disbelieving faces Breda was making. "It's true."

Breda rolled his eyes and the look he gave Havoc over his food tray was indulgent, a bit like the way you'd look at a child who had just claimed he was going to be Superman when he grew up. "Didn't think you were the superstitious type, Jean,"

The lunch-rush to the cafeteria was over; at two o'clock the room was almost empty. The kitchen personnel had begun to dry the tables and the sound from the dishwasher could be heard in the background. They were closing in half an hour. Not many officers had time to linger here for very long; only a few were here to eat this late.

Havoc looked at Breda the same indulgent way Breda was looking at him. He let his fork fall onto the plate andpicked upa toothpick. "It's nothing supernatural," he replied and began to chew on the toothpick. "It's lieutenant Hawkeye. It's science."

"Sure." Breda still didn't look anywhere near convinced. "I respect the lieutenant's abilities, but predicting rain is to go too far. It's superstitious crap."

"What is superstitious crap?"

Both officers jumped at the all too familiar voice and turned around. "First lieutenant!"

Hawkeye titled her head slightly, disapproving. "Officers. You should have been back in the office fifteen minutes ago."

Havoc grinned sheepishly and scratched his neck. "Sorry, ma'am. Guess we forgot the time and all...we'll be right back."

"Thank you." Hawkeye turned then paused before walking away, casting a look out the window, then almost smiled back at the two men. "And it'll rain this evening, by the way."

She swiftly walked out of the cafeteria.

Breda looked out the window as well, doubtfully eyeing the blue sky. "If it really does rain, I'll eat my shoes."

Havoc shrugged smugly.

Later that evening, Breda was grumbling and poking at his shoes, wondering if he should take them with salt, sauce or both.

**end**

_Well...it is a welcomed rain. I'm sure both Havoc and Hawkeye are welcoming it._


	5. To a City in Ruins

_I see so many holes in this story. But, ah, if you see them as well, just indulge me tonight? This is kind of a combination of the anime and manga, but I added and removed some details from both storylines. Artistic license and all, you know. ;_

_Btw - this is melodrama in its purest. Consider yourselves warned._

**#5: To a City in Ruins  
by Maaya**

Hawkeye could recall some things from the war better than she could with the last five minutes at any moments, any normal day. She couldn't remember the smell, like the rumours said many people did. She had been a sniper, further away from the action. While she thought that she had possibly been pained by the thick stench of burned bodies, the memory couldn't get past the stage of dim perhaps-imagination.

She could, however, at any time, give a throughout description of the rifle she had been assigned.

A Savage 110FP, okay weight, loose trigger, accurate, over all a decent work of art, suited for long action. There had been several dents on the rifle butt. If she closed her eyes, she could imagine every dent and mark it had showed after weeks of steady use.

She had detested that rifle.

It had made it easy for her to kill. She could tone out the fact that with every well-aimed shot, she stole a human life. For as long as possible, she had hold on to the thought that the humans were bodies, a piece of meat. It didn't work in the end, but at least it offered her some time without utterly loosing her self-respect.

When Hawkeye woke from that illusion, she was painfully aware of why her mother and father had told her weapons were the devices of the devil.

They had firmly been against everything military, lived in a small village a couple of miles away from a larger suburb to Central. They had been stern, serious people and somehow managed to keep their reputation as calm loners, even with three sons and one daughter to keep track of.

Hawkeye had been the youngest of the siblings by several years. The oldest, Thomas moved out when she had been just a toddler and lived somewhere in the South now, had broken all ties with the family when their parents had died. Marcus and Andrew had been closer to her, five and six years older. They hadn't minded to bring her along sometimes when they played so she had gotten to know more of the older boys rather than the children her own age. Problematic, because by the time she started school she had been lonely. The older boys only played with her when it suited their needs.

Her parents showed her the soldiers that passed through the village sometimes, and they explained death. They didn't want her to become someone that served the military ruled government. A Soldier. A killer. Hawkeye hadn't wanted to, either.

She had met Maes and Roy when she was sixteen. They were talking about joining the forces. Their eyes gleamed with a far-away look, eyes that spoke of boyish dreams of fame and heroic deeds.

Roy's alchemy had fascinated her. He'd created sparks with gloves his mother made, to impress her. He'd flirted with her in the beginning, was miffed when she didn't fall for him the way the rest of the females did, and stopped soon. Maes had been all warm smiles, goofy faces and knowing looks. She liked them both very much.

They stayed together, graduated, talked about the future.

Hawkeye wasn't sure why she had decided to follow the boys into the military world. Perhaps it had been concern for the boy, he who still relied on his mother to create what was needed to perform his precious alchemy.

She hated weapons, but learned that sometimes, they were needed. She was natural, became a sharpshooter, notorious for her good aim. She learned to live with what her parents had been disgusted with.

Then war came.

Maes, with his poor sight, requested a desk job. Hawkeye approved, he was safe there. She was more worried about Roy, who as a National Alchemist seemed to feel he had to go. She followed him, didn't trust him to be able to take care of himself.

And somewhere along the line, she woke up and realized that what they were doing was nothing more than slaughter. The National Alchemists were given something, she didn't know the details, and it would amplify their powers. She watched as the alchemy Roy has been so proud of, became a tool for easy executions. They were in war, she knew logic, but the Ishvarites didn't stand a chance. Hadn't from the start.

Hawkeye had aimed her gun at each of the alchemists in secret, lying hidden like the sniper she was. Even at Roy .Her trigger finger hadn't trembled. Her insides had.

She never fired of course. But sometimes she wondered what would have happened if she had. Perhaps the war could have ended more peacefully. Perhaps fewer innocents could have died. There was no way of knowing.

One of the things Hawkeye remembered clearly from the war was the rifle. The other was the night after the final massacre. She had been tired of seeing death and too many burned bodies. The camp was strangely quiet and she had been walking, looking for Roy.

She'd spotted him, and thought that he; this man, had been among the ones to annihilate the remaining Ishvarites.

His face had been pale. She clearly remembered the self-disgust in his eyes.

Hawkeye had stepped up to him and in silence they looked at the remains of what once had been a city.

In the privacy of her mind, she apologized. Hawkeye apologized because she had not been able to kill the man beside her. And she apologized because she couldn't regret her choice.

"Major," she said when she couldn't bear her own mind any longer. She waited until he snapped out of his daze. "You should get something to eat."

"Ah." He blinked.

They left their apologies with the ruins and walked away.

** end**


	6. Magic Bullet Gunner

**#6: Magic Bullet Gunner**  
By Maaya 

Edward had just returned a report to the Colonel when he noticed it.

Mustang was going on and on about nothing important, really, and Edward let his eyes tiredly scan the room for inexistent infrequencies, to take his mind off what he suspected was a scolding disguised as wise words, from his superior.

He didn't expect to actually find one of those inexistent infrequencies.

Edward blinked at the bullet hole.

It was small, located in the wall, just a bit above the top of Colonel Mustang's head. As it was close to the frame of a picture, no one would probably notice it unless he or she was looking for it.

Mustang had reached the part where he was teasing Edward to lighten the mood, so the blonde alchemist had to stop pondering and act his part. But even as he asked the Colonel just WHO he was calling an ultra small speck that could be hidden under a handkerchief, he looked for more of the phenomena.

He found another one, a hole in the wall just behind Mustang, hidden when the man was sitting in his chair, (not when he was lifted and hauled over the desk by an automail hand.)

When Edward let go, he saw the third one, the hole in the desk. It was tastefully covered with a pile of papers (not very neatly arranged anymore, after Edward's arm had, rather intentionally, knocked them down).

He ignored the papers that spread on the floor and raised an eyebrow. Mustang pretended not to notice, and sent him out with his stern-face.

Hawkeye stood by the door when Edward exited. He cast her a questioning look.

Her hand twitched over her gun.

She smiled.

Edward never disobeyed the woman again.

** end**


	7. In the right hand, a gun In the left han...

**7: In the right hand, a gun. In the left hand...**  
by Maaya 

Given a choice, Hawkeye thinks she might have been left-handed.

Her handwriting has always been sharp, all short, uneven lines and huge arches. Not very flowing, not at all like her female classmates' pretty styles with heart shaped dots over the 'i's. She never thought much about it. She learnt that writing is an art for the right hand. No matter how quickly her right hand tired - abnormally quickly, her teacher would say - she never considered picking up the pencil with her left hand.

When she was given a gun, she had without hesitation taken it in her right hand.

No one used their left hand, other than those unfortunate enough to have lost their right in one of the many wars.

Hawkeye watches Edward, who is sitting at borrowed Havoc's desk, scribbling with his left hand, his flesh hand. The boy frowns, he lets go of the pencil and stretches his arm, wiggles his fingers before attacking the paper again. It is a form asking for permission to search a Professor Kingsley's house, officially for proof of illegal activity concerning abortion. Unofficially, it's to look for and "borrow" some parchments the private alchemist had refused to show a "brat" like Edward.

She collects her papers from her desk, ready to leave yet another sheaf to the Colonel to sign. "Edward-kun, are you done with that anytime soon?"

Edward blinks up at her. "Huh? Mmm, hang on a sec..." He scribbles the last lines quickly, with aggressive lines. Not even Hawkeye can make the words out. "Here."

Hawkeye takes the offered paper with a nod, her next words surprises even herself. "Edward-kun...were you right-handed?"

Edward looks even more surprised now than when she had interrupted his writing. He glances down at his hands, looks up quickly and shrugs. "Yeah."

"I see," Hawkeye says thoughtfully. "I'll try to make the Colonel sign this," she indicates the paper, "as soon as possible."

Edward snorts, hesitates and then bows hastily before stalking out of the door, probably to look for his absent little brother. Hawkeye knows better than to be offended by the snort, she knows it was about the Colonel's laziness rather than her own ability to do her duties.

On the short way from her desk to the door to the Colonel's office, she wonders if anything would have happened differently, had she been using her left hand. It is a ridiculous thought.

By the time she puts her hand on the door handle, she has already realized it doesn't matter.

When she later exits the office, she has forgotten all about it.

**end**


	8. The Roar of the Sea

_Thank you once again for the reviews. 3 It makes me really happy you seem to like "my" Hawkeye because I love to write her. I'm also sorry if some of the themes are a little confusing to some. _

**8: The Roar of the Sea  
**by Maaya

Roy Mustang bit down hard on his lip to keep from gawking. He mumbled, strained as the taste of blood seeped into his tongue, "Vacation time?"

The office was quiet and in the center of the silence was Hawkeye, unaffected by the stares she was receiving. She looked at Roy with her usual piercing gaze.

Roy waited and just barely managed to keep from fretting under that glare. When no answer or explanation came, he let his pencil fall from his hand onto the doodles of dogs and cats now adorning Edward's latest report. He sighed.

"Vacation time," Roy repeated. Hesitating a moment, he wondered if it would be safe to ask. Curiosity was what in the end forced him to do it. "What for?"

It was like the whole office was holding a mutual, curious breath.

Hawkeye's expression firmly told them it was none of their business. She replied nonetheless. "I am going to visit my brother. He lives by the sea."

Right. Opening and looking around in the many drawers his desk had, Roy finally found an application for leave. He handed it to her, wondering why this whole occurrence felt unreal. He hadn't even known Hawkeye had a brother.

"Have a good time, lieutenant," Roy remembered to add.

Hawkeye accepted the application gracefully. "Thank you, sir."

She returned to her seat and everything was back to order. The whole occurrence was soon forgotten, but perhaps it had made them all realize that Hawkeye, like all of them, had a life outside the military.

Suddenly, she seemed more human.

** end**


	9. Bouquet

_Note: This takes place in the anime universe, sometime after Mustang came to Liesenburgh and found Edward and Alphonse._

**#9: Bouquet**  
by Maaya

There's a bouquet in summery spirit on the table, forget-me-nots and cornflowers and timothy grass. Not the most elegant of combinations, especially not when the colours are clashing horribly to the red-and-white checkered table cloth. But somehow it works, makes the atmosphere friendly and warm.

Hawkeye wonders where the cafe staff has found the forget-me-nots; you cannot buy those in Central city and she has searched. She glances out of the window. The silence between her and her companion is calm, but deafening.

They are usually comfortable with their silence, but today it is so obvious that the Colonel has something to say, Hawkeye finds the lack of words ominous. Glancing out the window, she notices that clouds are gathering outside. Hopefully the rain will wait until she's home and safe from the wet.

She exhales softly and looks at the Lieutenant Colonel again, hoping he will speak soon. Because it's his invitation, a cup of coffee after work, his responsibility to explain the reasons. Fair's fair.

After work meant after work, directly after. They are both still in uniform; the collar tickles Hawkeye's throat. She waits.

"Looks like it's going to rain," he offers, at last, and peers outside.

Hawkeye opens her mouth, closes it again. She sighs. "Sir."

"I went to Liesenburgh," he says, unnecessarily. Hawkeye knows that already, of course. She followed him to the train. The Lieutenant Colonel brought a letter with him then, the one that HQ had received some time ago, but Hawkeye doesn't know the details, how, when, where, why. Especially not why. But she does know that a girl and an old woman called Rockbell lives in Liesenburgh.

Some blue cornflower petals has fallen to decorate the table cloth, she notices when she reaches out for her tea cup. One of her hands almost automatically brushed them away.

They are silent, and when the Lieutenant Colonel finally speaks again, his voice seems steadier. It hadn't been unsteady before, but Hawkeye can clearly hear the difference, once a difference in given.

"The sons of Hohenheim appear to have been desperate." Suddenly, the Lieutenant Colonel's voice is lowered. "They tried to resurrect their mother."

Hawkeye doesn't blink. She recognizes the name after a moment's thought, Hohenheim, Elric. His sons. Hawkeye's not sure she knew the man had sons. But apparently, they had tried something prohibited, and she was pretty sure the Lieutenant Colonel meant that they were still alive.

Hawkeye is not an alchemist, but she understands from the tone of her companion's voice that it must be something extraordinary.

She knows from her superior's expression what will come next.

"So, when an Edward Elric calls, please let him speak with me," the Lieutenant Colonel concludes. The aura of seriousness escapes him and he relaxes in his chair, tugging at his high collar.

"Yes, sir."

Hawkeye decides not to ask if he met the Rockbells. It wasn't part of the story, apparently.

When she offers her good byes and prepares to get up, she sees that the flower petals are closing. It's going to rain soon.

** end**


	10. Returning Smile

**#10: Returning Smile**  
by Maaya 

They meet coincidentally outside the flower shop at the corner. There is a moment of surprise: a quiet between them that only they are aware of. The city-noise carries on like always without noticing the instant's respite.

It says click when they finally realize who the other is. Rockbell. Hawkeye. Winry. Riza.

They share a smile.

There's not much time for conversation. Riza is using her short lunch hour to run some errands and while Winry has got a whole day to spend, she wants to catch Edward and Alphonse as soon as the brothers can get away from paperwork. They-meaning Edward-owe her money and she intends to make them pay for all the new tools she is going to buy. The glint in her eye is just barely wicked and Riza returns it. They both know the best techniques to boss males around.

Winry accompanies Riza through the busy Central market to the post office. After a discreet hint of a question, she finds out that Riza is going to buy stamps and post a letter to her older brother. They aren't close as far as siblings go but Riza makes a habit of writing to him now and then. There's no reason to cut off all ties to the family just because they live far away from each other and-

Riza cuts off in the middle of the sentence when she notices Winry lowering her eyes.

It's easy to understand where the shoe is pinching.

What's harder is to come up with anything to say.

Riza sets to tell the story of Edward's and Havoc's bet instead. It is an amusing story, they are both laughing when it's over. Riza is glad to observe Winry looks happier now, knowing that Edward can still be his young, mischievous self, not always the stranger he is slowly growing to be.

They part outside the post office with yet another smile and yet more friendship budding between them.

One day, both are hoping to have time to let the bud flower.

**end**

_It's weird to write 'Riza' instead of 'Hawkeye'. ;-)_


	11. An Instant's Respite

_I guess you'll notice that I was a bit cynical when I wrote this theme._

**#11: An Instant's Respite**  
by Maaya

Hawkeye rouses on the stroke at five, not feeling at all rested (no one even resembling normal should feel awake at that hour) but able to function all the same. The first thing she's aware of is the patter of water against the windowpane.

She puts some water on the stove to boil, gives Black Hayate a mix of soured milk and dog food and then finally steps into the shower cabin. Hot water makes her thoughts enter an almost-waking-up state and the bitter smell of herb-shampoo works like smelling-salts to clear her mind further. It makes her realize: breakfast might not be such a bad idea, after all.

Dressed in a bathrobe, Hawkeye exits the bathroom with prouder posture and one can finally recognize her: first lieutenant Riza Hawkeye, prepared to serve her superior and help him reach the top.

After breakfast, that is.

She's halfway through the second page of the morning paper and has just started sipping at the tea when the phone rings.

It is a quarter to six, Tuesday morning. Hawkeye can't remember having asked someone to call her today and surely, no one would do it this early if it wasn't either requested or very important.

Important. Her throat is tight with worry, mind filled with horrible military-scenarios, as she answers.

It is a young girl speaking on the other end. Wrong number. Terribly sorry, miss.

Hawkeye doesn't sound strained when she accepts the apology.

She hangs up and finishes her breakfast.

** end**


	12. A Goddess' Embrace

**#12: A Goddess' Embrace**  
by Maaya 

Alphonse spent more time in Riza Hawkeye's company than anyone would've thought. She was always in the office when he and Edward came to leave a report, even when everybody else had gone home, she was there to write, was there to help Colonel Mustang with something, was there to finish paperwork. When Edward was called to the Colonel's office, Alphonse waited outside.

Alphonse liked those times. He was very fond of Hawkeye.

He thought she looked royal, even dressed in the standard military uniform, sitting straight-backed in her chair and writing out a document about damage to military dorm rooms. Her face was vacant, elegant, she looked feminine and powerful.

She just had this aura that commanded respect.

"Alphonse-kun, would you kindly stop staring at me."

He jumped nervously; Hawkeye hadn't even looked up as she spoke.

"Yes!" he said, arranging himself on the chair once again, mindful not to fall. The chair was so small and his armour so large..."I'm sorry."

Hawkeye looked amused. "It's quite alright." She paused, let the pencil fall into the desk as she turned in her chair to face the boy completely. "Edward-kun should be done soon, I hope. The Colonel has a meeting at five."

Edward was as usual in Mustang's office, probably getting scolded at in a subtle manner for breaking that statue of the city-hero in Dovenburg. Judging from the low voices from the adjoining room, the worst part of it had yet to come. That, or perhaps Mustang had mentioned something serious, as in serious serious, not scolding serious.

Alphonse sighed.

"Brother didn't sleep much last night," he said. "I hope the Colonel won't upset him too much. It'll put him in a bad mood the whole night."

Hawkeye, who had returned to her writing, paused. "Edward-kun really should take better care of himself."

"He has nightmares, sometimes." Alphonse didn't think Edward would appreciate that he told anyone about his periodical troubles with sleeping, but then, Hawkeye would certainly not pass it on. He ducked his head. "I'm trying to help the best I can."

Hawkeye nodded, Alphonse watched in silence as she thoughtfully released her hair from her hairclip to put it up again in a tidier bun.

They both looked up as the door to the office was opened and Edward stalked out, face devoid of emotions, a clear sign just how upset he was.

"We're leaving," was all he said, before stalking through the office and out of the door at the end of the room.

Alphonse scrambled up to follow, finding some relief in that the best part of spending time with Hawkeye had yet to come. As he passed her desk, she reached out with a hand to give his metal arm a friendly pat.

He couldn't feel it, of course. Still, somehow he was certain her hand was warm on his arm, as warm as her expression in that short instant. It was as powerful as an embrace, a comfort between friends.

They bid each other good bye, after that, and were once again left to take care of their troublemakers.

**end**

_And, the end of the Hawkeye 12 Themes. Thank you all who read and extra love to those who reviewed. Love you!_


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